Our wife: the moon

 If only I could remember the shape of the house that used to keep me warm

The walls that blocked the cold and the roof

Which asked the stars, "Could you pipe down and let them sleep?"

If only I could remember the way we lay in piles of blankets and body heat

Fingers on my skin

One window facing east, reminding me of the day to come

One west to remind me of the night still ahead

And one south so the moon could wink at me

As only she knew how we loved within those walls.